


Awakening (Fiona Knows Best)

by Captain_Jowl



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Bliss, Fiona thinks she's the shit, Fluff, Ian has a cold, M/M, POV Fiona Gallagher, Protective Mickey Milkovich, She's wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 08:29:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17484686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Jowl/pseuds/Captain_Jowl
Summary: Fiona thinks that Mickey is not good enough at taking care of Ian, so she decides to pay the boys a visit at their new apartment. She may want to reconsider some of her life choices after what she witnesses.





	Awakening (Fiona Knows Best)

**Author's Note:**

> So, it was supposed to be posted on the New Year, but life happened and here we go.  
> Canon divergence from S5, I guess? Nobody expects ~~the Spanish Inquisition~~ Fiona.  
> And I'll just... I'll just leave it here:  
> 

The pie is finally in the oven and Fiona sits at the kitchen counter, scrolling through her phone and humming along to a Mariah Carey song that Debbie listens to every year from the middle of November till the end of December. She is texting Veronica to coordinate the dinner, when a text from Ian appears in their “Gallagher Badasses” group chat.

17:24 Ian: sorry guys, not gonna make it today :( i think i caught a cold

17:26 Debbie: Oh no!! :(((( but we bought those fireworks u wanted to try…

17:27 Lip: Is it that bad? Can’t you still come? It’s like 30 min walk.

17:30 Ian: can’t get out of bed, dude

17:30 Ian: snot, fever, all that shit :(

17:31 Carl: lol good luck with ur midnight smooching

17:32 Lip: Well shit. This is gonna be our first New Year’s Eve without you then. Get better soon, man!

17:32 Ian: don’t worry about it, Debs, we’ll make an additional firework evening when i feel better :)

17:32 Ian: thnx Lip

17:34 Debbie: i knew it was a bad idea to play in the snow for 2 hrs yesterday CARL

17:34 Fiona: Ian, do you need help with anything? I can come over before dinner.

17:35 Ian: it’s ok, Mickey is home with me

17:37: Fiona: You sure? You got anything to take? I could ask V for some paracetamol and bring it to you.

17:37 Ian: thnx, Fi, we got everything

Fiona puts away her phone with a sigh. Ian’s been dismissing her attempts in helping with domestic chores ever since he moved in with the Milkovich boy three months ago. And as much as it is freeing  – not thinking of Ian as a helpless child anymore – she’s used to worrying about him. Is he skipping breakfasts as always? Do they even have food? Is he wearing that warm scarf when it’s cold outside? She has been complaining about never having time for herself for years, but now that Ian actually tries to distance himself she feels like an empty-nester.

Ian and Mickey’s place is only a thirty minute walk from the Gallaghers’ house, and still Fiona has only been there once when they helped the boys to move. Apparently, Terry’s second cousin kicked the bucket without leaving any children of his own (at least ones anyone could prove were his), and the other Milkovich kids decided that Mickey can have his old stinky apartment if he gives up any claims on the Milkovich house. Fiona suspects that Mickey had to hold more negotiations than she heard about. He was being even more jumpy than usual, and Fiona saw him having some pretty intense chats with shady Milkovich-looking dudes at the Alibi once or twice. This lasted for several weeks, but in the end of it Ian happily announced that he’s moving out with Mickey. Carl must still have the recording of an epic fistfight Colin and Iggy had in their yard over Mickey’s old room. The boys didn’t have much shit to take with them, so the moving didn’t take long. Since then Ian always found excuses for not letting anyone come over. There wasn’t even a housewarming party, which Debbie was so excited for. Ian explained that it was still too dirty. Or too cold. Not enough chairs. Not enough place. Whatever.

He is still spending enough time at home – attending the traditional Gallagher parties and just hanging out. Ian also drags Mickey to all the important dinners, but apart from that she barely sees the Milkovich boy anymore. Fiona certainly doesn’t miss him, but she’s got kinda used to having Mickey around. He is rude as fuck and exceptionally useless when it comes to household chores, but she felt weirdly more secure with him in the house. Especially since that one time he scared off a couple of creepy looking crack heads trying to mug her at the corner of their street.

As she sits at the kitchen counter, she considers coming to their place unannounced. Fiona has the keys to the apartment, in case of emergency. She is sure Ian won’t like it. He will tell her that she never listens to him, will demand for her to stop babying him. He’ll get pissy. She can practically see the way he will glare at her with impossibly big eyes, angry and sad at the same time. She’ll probably get a silent treatment for a couple of weeks. Fiona can handle it, if it means that Ian is taken care of.

Ian has pretty violent colds since childhood, with fever and headaches. He gets weak and helpless. Yes, Ian is with Mickey now, but what can he do for Ian, when he’s in such a vulnerable state? How can a Milkovich be helpful with that? She has been taking care of Ian his whole life, she knows what he needs. Especially now, after the bipolar happened. Fiona is so much more experienced with it than Mickey. Ian needs empathy, warm food and some rest, not that he can get it with an irritable thug at home. Mickey seems to be picking fights with Ian at every opportunity. Real fucking fights. She witnessed one last week, when Mickey literally tackled Ian on the carpet as he lost to him in a videogame match. (They stayed to play after the dinner, because Carl finally stole a new controller that doesn’t glitch.) Ian ended up with a bruised elbow as he hit the table in a heat of the moment. Their wrestling looked kinda brutal to Fiona. Yes, Mickey definitely had a soft spot for her brother, but it didn’t mean that he was good for Ian’s fragile state. For some reason, Ian never seems to be repulsed by Mickey’s short-temper. He was laughing loudly during their fight, even as Mickey held him in a headlock. Her little brother is so delusional. It's okay if he wants to play house with a Milkovich for now. But he needs her. Maybe she will convince Ian to stay at home till he gets better. They’ll use the Milkoviches’ car if he’s too weak for walking.

Yes, she’s going tomorrow.

And as if she wasn’t convinced enough, later during the dinner Carl casually mentions that he hangs out “at Ian’s” a lot, and that leaves Fiona absolutely confused. Why is Ian not as protective of his space with Carl as he is with her or Lip? How is Carl different? That is just not fair, she’s sure Carl makes more of a mess than her. She absolutely needs to go and figure this shit out.

* * *

It is late afternoon when Fiona fixes her scarf, getting ready to step into the cold. The first day of the year brought a massive snowstorm to Chicago, and she’s not looking forward to fighting her way to Ian’s apartment. But she made a decision.

“Where are you taking our food?” calls out Debbie from where she sits on the couch.

“I’m gonna go visit Ian,” answers Fiona and grabs her winter coat.

“Does he know about that? You know how he gets.”

“He’s probably in bed. I don’t wanna bother him. I just wanna make sure that he’s alright.”

“You could ask Mickey?” There’s confusion in Debbie’s voice.

“What for?”

“Cause he’s with him right now?” She tries to catch Fiona’s eyes, but she doesn’t turn to her. “And by the way it’s his apartment you’re going to break into.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m not breaking in anywhere. I have the right to check up on my little brother.”

“Whatever,” dismisses Debbie with a shrug and Fiona steps outside.

Days are short in winter and when Fiona gets to the apartment complex half an hour later, it’s already getting dark. She squints at the windows but she can’t see if their lights are on. She’s a bit worried as she walks up the stairs to their floor. When they were living all together, the boys were never discreet about their active sex life. And as much as Fiona’s used to living with a lot of males in the house, which also meant she was seeing a lot of disturbing things, she doesn’t want to see her little brother in a compromising… position. With the Milkovich kid. Again. Maybe she should’ve called first. But Fiona is aware that Ian wouldn’t like the idea of her visiting, so she just relies on a bit of luck and opens the door with her key without knocking.

She steps into the hallway, balancing the bag with leftovers on the crook of her elbow. She doesn’t know what she expects, but she certainly doesn’t expect the place to be that…lived in. Maybe it was because the last and only time she’s been in the apartment it was dirty and off-putting, litter from the previous owner all over the place. It doesn’t look that gross now. Fiona has to admit it looks nice. It’s warm and it smells good — food, coffee and that cologne Mickey wears. The walls are painted new and that awful stain that was near the entrance is scrubbed away. She can see the carpet in the living room from where she’s standing. It wasn’t there before. It’s not new but it is clean and makes the room cozy.

There’re no signs of life except for the sounds of the TV in the living room, so Fiona makes several careful steps forward. The only source of light in the room is the flickering blue of the screen but she sees them. The boys are huddled on the couch together. There is some action movie on the screen and the sound is loud enough, so they don’t hear Fiona, and she has the time to take it all in. It’s not nice to spy like that, but she’s curious.

Ian is wrapped in a blanket, his feet in warm socks sticking out of it. He’s practically sitting on Mickey, his long legs are thrown across his lap, head resting on the older boy’s shoulder. Mickey is holding him close, one hand rubbing slow circles over his back. They both seem to be…different. Their hair is disheveled in a similar messy way, and if it looks sweetly familiar on her little brother, on Mickey it looks almost bizarre. Fiona doesn’t remember the last time she’s seen the Milkovich boy without his hair being scrupulously gelled up. What she does remember is the hoodie Mickey’s wearing, which is suspiciously oversized on him — it was Debby’s Christmas gift to Ian from a couple of years ago. Mickey had to roll his sleeves up a bit, so they don’t cover his hands completely. He is soft like that, domestic even. Weirdly attractive.

But it’s not the domesticity that strikes her. Not the softness. There’s something else that makes it harder for her to recognize both of them. She has to think about it for a second. Search for the right word. Then she gets it. The word is unguarded. They look _unguarded_.

With their postures relaxed and faces untroubled, they’re leaning against each other, content in finding support in each other’s bodies. It’s natural. Both of them seem to be kind of sleepy, not paying any attention to the movie. They're talking quietly, whispering back and forth. Ian is playing with Mickey’s fingers, and when the blanket slips down from his shoulders, Mickey automatically fixes it with a fond smile as he watches Ian’s lips moving. There're no traces of a usual scowl on his face. He looks so much younger like this. And the way he looks at her little brother... Ian says something and Mickey chuckles, brings his hand to the back of the younger boy’s head and guides him into a slow kiss. Like he has the right. Like he did it many times before. He probably did. Their kiss is unexpectedly tender and sweet, Ian cupping Mickey's jaw and Mickey smiling into the kiss.

Fiona thinks that she’s never seen them kissing before. Maybe that’s why she didn’t get it for so long? They‘ve been hanging out a lot, even as Ian was still officially dating Mandy, and Mickey was still deep in the closet. Fiona never understood or approved their seemingly weird friendship, but as the years went by, she got used to seeing Ian wandering around the neighborhood in Mickey‘s company. She saw them as nothing more than buddies, and that’s why it was particularly shocking for her to find out they were not only friends, but also lovers. She swiftly wonders if she could call any of her ex-boyfriends a friend. She refuses to define the answer for that.

On the couch Mickey tugs on Ian’s hair lightly, stopping the slide of their lips and creating a distance between their faces. Ian just sits there for a moment, with his eyes closed and a blissful smile on his lips.  Slowly, his eyes flutter open, and the boys look at each other. And they _see_ each other and it is clear that they are so much more than friends. The look they're sharing lingers, meaningful, filled with love and adoration and _something,_ and FIona has to avert her gaze. She realizes suddenly that she’d felt much less abashed if she caught them having sex. It’s one thing to accidentally peep at two people in bed. That has happened before. But this — the gentleness of Mickey’s hands, the softness of Ian’s smile and their tiny whispers... She’s witnessing something that is not meant for her eyes. Not meant for anybody’s eyes. It belongs to them.The moment itself is so tender it’s trembling, and Fiona doesn’t want to break it but it is _unbearably_ intimate. This sincere nakedness of the souls — only for each other, and her unknown presence here is a desecration.

So she coughs and knocks on the wall gently to make her presence known. “Hi, it’s just me,” she quickly says, in order not to startle the relaxed couple.    

Their heads snap towards her and it’s like the switch was suddenly flipped. Ian flies off Mickey’s lap, the blanket falling on the floor, and Mickey shifts subtly, so Ian ends up behind his back. Fiona blinks once and there they are, Ian and Mickey that she recognizes, that she sees in the streets, at dinners, at the Alibi. Mickey got this protective scowl on his face, the usual furrow between the eyebrows. Fiona doesn’t even need to look at Ian to know that his jaw is set tightly; his whole posture is defensive, as if he’s ready to argue, to oppose, to fight, to fight for. Instantly guarded.

Like someone is about to take something from them.

Ian comes to senses first. “Fi?” he asks. His voice is a bit hoarse and he’s snuffling constantly. “What are you doing here?”

“I-I came to check up on you. To see if you’re alright.” Fiona shifts on her feet, feeling unusually out of place.

Ian sags back on the couch heavily and closes his eyes. “I told you I’m okay, Fi. I thought we decided that you’re only gonna use the spare key if something happens.”

“Something did happen, Ian. You’re sick and don’t let anyone help you.”

Ian sighs. “I appreciate that you care, Fi,” he says. He has been using those special phrases on her since he has started therapy. “But I made a decision, and I would like you to respect it.”

“There's a difference between making a decision and being stubborn, Ian,” answers Fiona. “I don't think you should be left on your own now.”   

“Can I make one fucking decision without you questioning me?” he asks quietly with his eyes still close. “Plus I'm not alone. Mickey’d tell you, if I felt too bad.”

“Well, firstly, he doesn’t know which signs to look for. I know, because I’ve been taking care of you for…”

“Well, firstly, guess what, I’m in the fucking room,” snarls the older boy at her. “Secondly, it’s a fucking cold we’re talking about, right? Not a heart attack or something?”

“Mickey, you of all people have to understand why I am worried. Sickness is one more stress factor for Ian, and you know how he handles stress,” she sends Mickey a meaningful glance. Ian snaps his eyes open.

“What the fuck, Fiona?” he questions as loudly as his woolly voice allows him.

“Jesus, here we fucking go,” groans Mickey. He stands up with a tired sigh and drags his feet to the kitchen, switching on the ceiling lamp on his way. The bright light breaks the spell completely, and it’s like Fiona imagined the tender scene she’s been witnessing several moments ago. Now she can see that there’re empty plates, pills and a large amount of tissues on the coffee table. At least her brother has been fed. Some decorations left from Christmas are scattered around the room, a small pine branch with some tiny ornaments stands near the TV. Domestic. Fiona looks back at Ian. He’s very pale and his nose's a bit red, and yes, he’s watching her with impossibly big eyes, angry and sad at the same time. She knew that. They start talking simultaneously.

“Ian– I…”

“Tell me, why did you _actually_ come?”

Fiona stops. “What do you mean, why did I come? Am I not allowed to see you?”

“You see me often enough. I don't think that is the reason why you came here,” Ian answers seriously. “I think that you don't trust me and you came to accuse me of not managing my disorder.” 

“No! It’s not like that!” Fiona protests, feeling extremely uncomfortable about the whole situation. “I was worried, cause it’s the first time you've gotten sick out of home and I thought…”

“Not the first time,” Ian says quietly and looks down.

“What?”

“I said, not the first time. Was much worse when I was away… when Mickey had to search for me.”

They both go silent, not looking at each other. After a few seconds, Fiona shakes the bag in her hand a bit, presenting it as a peace offering.

“I thought I’d bring you food,” she smiles weakly.

Ian heaves an exasperated sigh. “That’s bullshit, Fi, I told you our fridge is full. You have a lot more mouths to feed at home.”

“Okay, Ian. Okay. Let me be honest then,” she crosses her arms. “I don’t think staying with Mickey now is good for you.”

Ian jerks his head backwards, his eyebrows flying up in disbelief. “And what do you _think_ is good for me?”

“Come home for a bit, sweet cheeks,” Fiona pleads. “Stay till you get better.”

“What for?”

“Don’t you think that staying with your family will help you manage everything better?” she tries to reason.

“And how exactly will the atmosphere of our house help me with that? For the first time in my life I don’t live in absolute chaos, and you think that living with Mickey is bad for me?”

“I didn’t say that! All I said was that you not wanting to accept my help is kinda weird.”

“Jesus, I don’t have any energy to fight with you now,” says Ian, rubbing his face.

“I didn’t come to fight, sweet cheeks! If you just listened…”

“He said he’s tired,” Mickey’s strained voice cuts Fiona off. He’s standing in the doorway, fixing her with a heavy gaze. There’re two steaming mugs in his hands. “Why don’t you say your goodbyes and leave now?”

“I just wanted to help!” Fiona exclaims ignoring Mickey. “Why are you being such a stubborn little shit, Ian? You run away, disappear, get in trouble! Do you expect me to just leave you be after this, hoping that you suddenly get better without any help? You told me I never pay attention to you, but you get pissy now that I am?”

“But you still fucking don’t!” Ian also raises his voice. “You think you know better, but you don’t, Fiona! Do you remember the dosage for any of my meds? How many times a day I have to take ’em?”

She keeps quiet and Ian continues, getting louder and louder.

“You don’t! And that’s okay, you have a lot on your plate, you can’t remember everything! But I do, and Mickey does. Mickey takes such good care of me, Fiona! I feel good, I feel safe with him, and fucking... fucking respected! So stop fucking acting like you’re the only person who knows shit!” Ian stops yelling to have a coughing fit. Mickey hands him one of the mugs he's holding. As Ian drinks, her brother’s boyfriend turns to her.

“I have no clue why the fuck you decided that horning in on us would be a good idea, but we’re okay. You can go now, bye,” he waves his hand dismissively, and Fiona has to remind herself that it really is his apartment she’s standing in and she can’t just smack him, no matter how much she wants to.

“Ian, I…”

“Don’t,” Ian croaks. “I’ll call you when I feel better.”

“I’m just…”

“Please, Fiona.”

She thinks for a second. “I’m just gonna go then.”

“Yes,” he’s not looking at her. “Thank you.”

As she opens the door to step outside, Mickey comes to her with a disapproving expression on his face that says _did you really have to do this_? But he tells her something else instead.

“Look I– I understand that you worry and all that shit, but you don’t have to, okay? Cause if you think I’ve never been left alone with Iggy in a fever heat in the middle of winter without any food or heating, you’re wrong. I know how to take care of people, I have five siblings.”

Fiona watches him. He looks tired, but his eyes are bright. He shifts on his feet uncomfortably, rubs his nose.

“I worry about him as much as you do, okay? Let me take care of him, I won’t let anything bad happen.”

She leaves him the food. She leaves. He doesn't take the key from her, in case of emergency.

After Fiona comes home and shuts the door to her room, she cries a little bit. She pities herself, although she’s not sure why. She tells herself, it’s because her little brother is selfish and has an asshole of a boyfriend. Because Carl can just come by any time without any problems, but Ian doesn't want to see her for some reason. Maybe there’s another reason. Maybe she's envious. Maybe she wants what they have, what she saw they have. Maybe not. She's not sure. What _does_ she know, after all.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  yep. byyye Fi.
> 
> (gif by frollola)


End file.
